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As for me, I'm a perennial student who plays video games and writes part-time. And sometimes I even have a job!

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I joined my Mom when she ran out to get some shopping done. It was probably for furniture and housewares--the autumn before, my folks had split up and Mom moved out. While she was off browsing the aisles, I ran off to the magazines in search of something interesting. Amongst all of the usual fare of housekeeping and hunting rags was a glossy, colorful cover that quickly attracted my attention: the June issue of Nintendo Power highlighting the soon-to-be-released Pokemon Snap.

I'd read an issue of NP one day in my school's library, looking with amazement at this new Super Smash Bros. game that was coming out soon. It was a great magazine, and with my Pokefever in its highest stages, I knew I had to have this magazine. Poring over it later that evening, I realized this was a magazine after my own heart (and my Mom's checkbook).

A few months later, I was a subscriber, and would read each issue till the corners frayed and the spine was nearly broken. Barring one or two very slight relapses, I remained a subscriber till the magazine's end this past December.

When an issue came to me in the mail with the announcement that Nintendo Power would shortly be ceasing publication, it wasn't a complete surprise. I know print media for all topics has been on the decline for a number of years with the advent of the internet, but this was a magazine that I looked forward to getting each and every month.

I knew what it was all along: it was a corporate rag. It was meant to advertise Nintendo's products and only their products. It didn't show flaws or weaknesses with corporate strategies, and even in the trying times of the N64 and Gamecube eras, they were obligated to put on that brave face to tell the readers, "Hey, look at these few games coming out," or, "You guys LOVE connecting the GameBoy Advance to the Gamecube!" I knew things weren't always so great (in part because of my subscription to EGM I got in 2001), but I always came back to it.

It was a pretty danged good magazine in its own right, despite its actual purpose. It had interesting articles about Nintendo products, it was fun to read, and they treated their readership very well: I have numerous Pokemon cards, one Animal Crossing e-Card, and various other swag to attest to that fact! Growing up as a mostly Nintendo gamer, it couldn't be beat.

But I had another more emotional attachment to it. It helped me get through my uneasy home life: my parents' separation was still hard to deal with, and my Grandma was living with us during her twilight battle with cancer. At school, reading the magazines - or anything, really - was one of the few defenses I had against my total inability to interact with other students. Much like the games it was previewing and advertising, Nintendo Power offered some form of escape for me.

Things picked up for me over the years, surely, and as I grew up, grew out socially, and moved off to college, it came with me. It was something I always looked forward to getting from home, along with whatever other mementos or treasured gifts from Mom. The magazine was changing, too: I remember the surprise in 2007, when its publisher had changed and so had the overall layout. But it was still the same dear magazine to me.

This past fall, I kept in mind its forthcoming end even amidst a somewhat hectic academic period. And in December, wrapped in clear plastic with visible poster and "Thank you" letter from the publisher and staff, it arrived in my mailbox. But it was only until last night that I opened it. I don't know why, exactly. I suppose it was a mixture of expectation ("It's over, I don't know what else they really have to say") and sad reluctance. But last night felt like as good a time as ever.

Indeed, the issue was filled with retrospects from editors past and present, along with the somewhat bittersweet previews for games released and on the horizon. In the middle, though, were overviews of each year the magazine was around, including the very special 1999. At the end, after the game reviews, was a special final comic of none other than Nester and Max, telling the audience that it's not really the end, because we'll always have the memories. And on that very last page, above the pixelated portraits of the staff, was "GAME OVER--THANKS FOR READING!"

Last night I responded to fellow 1up member soulsaver in his request for information and sources regarding sexism and video games. After posting a few suggestions for him, I stumbled upon a recent article by Katie Baker for Jezebel.com, a rebuttal to a Forbes.com op-ed by Gabrielle Toledano, EA executive vice president. I read Jezebel's criticism first and then the Forbes piece afterward.

Sexism in the video game world - from player to publisher - isn't a new revelation. It's a topic that's been in gaming discussions for years, and even aside from 1Up's feature about it last year, it's probable that you've heard about it or chimed in. It's also likely that you, the gamer, have experienced it--as victim, witness, or party to it. Even in other forms of media and discourse, sexism is being given more public attention--articles about gender issues pop up in my Facebook news feed pretty often, either from general news sites or from Jezebel.

What's also changed is the gaming pastime itself and the definition of "gamer." Because of the influx of games coming to iOS platforms and other handheld devices, more people are playing games and demographics are accommodating new potential buyers. My Mom, a retiree, plays a number of puzzle games on her iPad; neither she nor myself would label her a "gamer," but her money has the games industry, journalism, and even society begging to differ. But she, like many females of all ages, is making up the new target audience of games, a fact which is hardly a secret to anybody.

The one thing that hasn't changed or become new, however, is sexism. Admittedly, I'm not an expert on the whole issue. But I'm not willfully ignorant of these sorts of problems either, and see them evident in many facets of life aside from gaming: gender-prohibitive policies and cultural norms have indeed shaped most of how modern societies function, and have quite far-reaching consequences. Even if you are the sort who hems and haws about the discussion, it's hard to deny at least that little.

Toledano's article sits in an odd middle ground with me--not loved but not hated; flawed but with some legitimate points. It's hard for her article to not come off sounding apologetic: she sandwiches her major points by downplaying or abating the fears of sexism in the industry. This is something that really can't be understated, because it's impossible to cover up the fact that you're talking about a male-led industry which targets its products mostly at men. Her position with EA (she runs their HR department) makes me feel as if she wasn't being completely open about gaming's corporate culture(s), or even her own possible experiences as a victim of harassment or gender discrimination in her careers. EA themselves are kind of a pariah within the gaming fandom, too, carrying a reputation as a company more interested in making money than making games. But I was drawn especially to the fact that Toledano isn't actually involved with games outright: most of her past experiences have been HR work for other tech firms, not in development or publishing. Even if she isn't speaking through a corporate filter, then she comes off as unable to see the larger problems at hand, perhaps even a bit naive of how the game industry works (i.e., booth babes).

To Toledano's credit, she did touch upon some very solid points. Her three "secrets" about women in gaming aren't exactly secret, but I can definitely appreciate the second and third ones the most--women are needed in the gaming industry (as in many other tech jobs), yet there aren't many trained in those jobs, so there needs to be more emphasis on females in STEM education in our schools. Even though video games aren't her native "trade," she still has years of working in the tech field under her belt, and I'd wager to guess that she started at a time when women were really a minority (and all that that implies). Reading through it all, the end pieces seem like less of a self-misogynistic attack against women complaining about unfair treatment in the business, and more like a call to change through action.

But Baker's response drums up the former, and falls short of being anything too meaningful. She relies far too heavily on juicy snippets and the bookends of Toledano's article to establish her argument--the largest quote from the source material is the penultimate paragraph, which takes up around a third of her whole review! Maybe that could work for a piece that truly is so trite and one-dimensional, in which the body seriously is nothing more than a constant reiteration of the introduction. Baker had a fairly good amount of material to work with, yet produced only a brief, bitter criticism that felt shallow: too eager to be angry and call foul, too insubstantial for any deeper thought or insight.

It's actually disappointing. While I certainly enjoyed some of Toledano's arguments, the parts I took issue with have a bigger impact because they aren't so easy or quick to resolve through her words alone. The game business has a problem with gender issues, plain and simple, and it's also very slow to adapt (i.e., expect booth babes at E3 this year). Writing about these kinds of topics is Jezebel's bread and butter, and Baker's retort was, as she described the Forbes piece, a "missed opportunity." What could have - and should have - been something that really pressed the issue settled for an easy victory instead.

I'd be the last person capable of making any sort of judgment call about who really is sexist, or who really is a traitor to their own kind, or any such claim in the topic of sexism in pop culture. That doesn't bother me, because I'm more interested in actual change than the opportunity to cause a ruckus, especially if said ruckus benefits no one.

But I'm just as interested in seeing where this pastime of ours goes, and how it defines us--and who defines us. This debate on sexism is still open and changes almost daily. And so is the debate on the definition of us as gamers as ascribed to us from others. Are gamers rated on levels based on the price or difficulties of our games, by time spent playing, by passion and emotional investment? And on whose authority or judgment? Apple's, EA's, Nintendo's, our own?

Are we as sexist, progressive, regressive as the industry we patronize, and/or likewise? And on whose authority or judgment? Is this something that we as gamers - to whatever degree of that term - can say or admit to ourselves, or are we going to require outside sources like Jezebel and other news sites to analyze it?

I suppose we'll just have to keep watching and keep playing--and keep thinking. (And if you're like me, sleeping.)

I don't watch a whole lot of TV, and have been spending more time on this site, reading more site features and community posts. As such, I see the ads that are posted on the front page of 1up, and one that caught my eye was for an upcoming TBS show, King of the Nerds. With its bright yellow background and image of a stock “nerd/dork/geek” wearing a crown of what appears to be cannibalized VIDYA GAEM controllers, all I could think immediately was, “Here we go again.” (That and some minor swearing, but I don’t think that bears repeating here.)

I clicked on the ad, and got a rundown of the show’s premise. It’s a bunch of nerds (obviously) competing in a reality show to become the de facto king of nerds. I didn’t know such a title really existed, but I’m sure it’s highly coveted, and this preview will surely show how this competition will be handled with all due care and respe—oh, scratch that, it’s just another crummy reality show, except this one hinges on even crummier stereotypes of the “nerd.”

Look, Hollywood: we get it. We know that the one thing that you love more than shoveling out reality shows is rehashing tired old clichés, and nerds and geeks are just too easy a target to pass up. We know this, because we’ve seen it for years. Recently, we’ve seen the banal antics of The Big Bang Theory characters—and hey, wouldn’t you know, it’s the show preceding the premiere episode of King of Nerds. For even longer, we’ve watched every nerd popped out of that archetypal mold behave like some gross caricature from another era. How convenient, the hosts of the show are none other than Curtis Armstrong and Robert Carradine, two of the stars of the Revenge of the Nerds film saga. Sure, I thought the first one was pretty funny, even for being another mindless 80s comedy. But this show looks like it’ll be dumb without being funny—or original.

I’m not that guy in a sphere of geek/nerd culture who’s all about his “cred,” who’s all about throwing around a perceived sense self-worth, or treats his hobbies with a xenophobic worldview and fervor. But I do hate hackneyed stereotypes, especially ones that are far past their prime. Sure, in the gaming, LARPing, anime, and comics fandoms (to name but a few), there are the people whose extremeness overwhelms even the other members of that community, and can unfairly accent that whole group. But it’s 2013 already, and it’s time to just put some of the tropes to rest. You know someone who loves playing games, or reading comics, or watching anime (maybe you’re even that person)—and you know that person is also socially adjusted regardless of those interests. Nerds run the world. We know these things because we’ve personally seen them. So why is it that the “nerd” is treated like some elusive yet dangerous animal, when caught on tape in captivity or the wild?

The fact that King of Nerds is a reality show can only perpetuate that desired stigma. It’s a given that the genre is a contradiction in terms: only the juiciest, most drama-filled bits make it on air, and many (if not most) of these shows are planned to some degree by the production crews. What this means is that we the audience (probably) won’t see a contestant explaining a personal passion with any sort of eloquence. Instead, we will see a bunch of 20- and 30-somethings acting like fools, playing up the worst misconceptions of their fandoms, and becoming further social punching bags because, really, that’s what’ll sell. What could be an even worse outcome, though, as pointed out by two female writers in their preview of the series, is the message sent out about women in nerd communities by some of the contestants: female geeks must be portrayed as either ashamed of their interests and/or intellect, or have to act like gold-digging teases (my words, not theirs).

I’ll admit that their words and mine are completely presumptive and speculative. After all, the series hasn’t even debuted and I’ve only seen a few of the previews for it, so I can’t say for certain what it’ll really be like. However, I do know that Hollywood sure loves sticking to its old clichés and stereotypes, and my own experience tells me that what we’ve seen is more than likely what we’ll get. I don't think the contestants are traitors or anything, and I wouldn't hate anyone for wanting to go on it. Really, I’m not that spiteful of a person, and I seriously wish them well on this and future endeavors. I’m not even calling for any sort of boycott or massive “awareness” movement to counter its existence. But I do hope the show itself suffers an even swifter death than Beauty and the Geek, and that both can serve as painful examples of why the entertainment biz really just needs to quit putting out trite nerdsploitation.